The reactions were mixed.
Some visibly stiffened.
Some frowned openly.
Some whispered among themselves.
Others simply stared with caution.
After all, this was the same man who had challenged Dwarka openly and taken away Princess Subhadra before the entire Yadava kingdom — the same warrior who defeated armies alone, the same king whose influence now stretched across kingdoms.
Karna entered calmly, dressed neither too extravagantly nor too simply.
His golden angavastra moved lightly in the wind while the sunlight reflected against his divine earrings and armour. His expression remained composed, unreadable, almost detached from the tension surrounding him. He walked toward his designated seat without arrogance, without nervousness, without trying to dominate the gathering.
Yet his mere presence already did that naturally.
As he sat down, he glanced toward the seat beside him and saw his young brother-in-law, Indraverma, the youthful king of Kashi who had only recently stepped fully into kingship. At merely twenty-one years of age, Indraverma still carried traces of youthful awkwardness beneath royal dignity.
Karna's lips curved slightly.
"So eager to marry already, brother-in-law?"
Indraverma blinked before immediately realising the tease. His ears reddened faintly while he awkwardly adjusted the bracelet around his wrist.
"Not really, Maharaj," he muttered with embarrassment. "It is only for formality. Kashi and Hastinapur are allies, after all." Then, lowering his voice slightly, he added honestly, "I already know you will win this." He glanced around the arena carefully. "Can anyone here truly match you?"
Before Karna could answer, a mocking voice suddenly echoed from the opposite side.
"Well, well, well… look who it is."
The tone itself carried deliberate provocation. Several heads turned instantly.
Karna slowly lifted his gaze toward the speaker. It was Shalya, king of Madra — the maternal uncle of the Pandavas. Shalya leaned lazily against his seat with a faint smirk full of disdain.
"The great king of Dakshina Kalinga," he continued loudly enough for nearby rulers to hear, "who apparently still found life incomplete after marrying five times…" He pretended to think. "Sorry… six times." A few uncomfortable chuckles escaped around the arena. Shalya's eyes sharpened mockingly. "And now he arrives to have a seventh woman."
The insult hung openly in the air. Some rulers avoided eye contact. Some waited curiously to see Karna's reaction.
But Karna did not explain himself, did not justify circumstances, did not defend his marriages. The moment he sensed the hostility behind Shalya's tone, his expression cooled slightly instead.
Then he answered immediately.
"Such words," Karna said calmly, "do not suit the person who arrived at the swayamvara of a girl almost like a daughter to him, in age and in relation."
The words landed instantly.
Shalya's smirk froze.
Karna continued without hesitation.
"You are Maharaj Pandu's brother-in-law. And now you wish to become Maharaj Dhritarashtra's son-in-law as well?" He tilted his head faintly. "At such an age?"
A few louder laughs escaped from nearby kings. Even some servants lowered their heads quickly to hide smiles. Karna's voice remained calm throughout.
"I truly fail to understand what exactly occurs inside Maharaj Shalya's mind."
Shalya's face visibly reddened. His fingers tightened over the armrest.
"Careful with your words," he snapped sharply. "You, of all people, should not lecture others about relationships." His voice dripped with sarcasm now. "You married Maharaj Jarasandha's daughter and granddaughter. You married the princesses of Kashi and Dwarka who themselves are cousins of Princess Dushala."
The surrounding atmosphere grew tense again. Everyone waited for Karna's response.
But Karna simply looked at him with complete calmness.
"So?"
That single word almost startled people more than anger would have. Karna leaned back slightly.
"Is there any issue with that?" Then his eyes sharpened faintly. "They are related to one another. But I am not related to them by blood like you are, to the Princess who is almost like your daughter." His tone remained polite — which somehow made the response harsher.
"Do you not think so, Maharaj Shalya?"
Another wave of restrained laughter spread through the seats. Even some nearby princes failed to hide their amusement now.
Shalya opened his mouth… then closed it again. Because technically, Karna's argument was correct. For several moments, Shalya simply glared silently with visible irritation burning across his face.
Beside Karna, Indraverma stared at him with genuine surprise.
"Maharaj…" he whispered softly. "Is it really you?"
Karna glanced sideways. Indraverma looked half shocked, half entertained.
"You normally do not speak so provocatively."
Karna's expression softened slightly afterward. Then he answered quietly enough that only nearby people could hear.
"Remember one thing, Indraverma. Those who approach you with sincerity deserve kindness." His gaze briefly shifted toward Shalya again. "But people who intentionally provoke despite receiving no harm from you…"
His voice lowered slightly.
"They do not deserve endless patience."
He paused briefly and then continued.
"Maharaj Shalya enjoys disturbing the minds of others. Such people are like those who throw stones into calm water merely to enjoy the ripples. The more you stay silent against such behaviour, the more he mistakes restraint for weakness and continues further."
Indraverma quietly absorbed the words.
Around them, the atmosphere slowly settled again. The kings returned to their conversations. Musicians resumed playing softly. Servants moved carefully between seating rows, carrying drinks and scented water.
Rows of kings sat upright upon their decorated seats — some whispering quietly to ministers beside them, some staring toward Karna with restrained displeasure, and some openly measuring him like hunters studying a tiger before entering the forest.
Then suddenly the deep sound of conches echoed across the arena.
Once.
Twice.
Then a third time.
Immediately afterward, drums began rolling slowly, rhythmically, like thunder approaching from distant mountains.
The musicians standing beside the elevated royal platform struck cymbals while women from the palace balconies showered flower petals into the air.
Saffron and crimson silk curtains near the upper entrance were pulled apart gently by attendants.
And then Princess Dushala appeared.
For a brief moment, even the murmurs inside the arena faded.
She descended slowly from the royal corridor above, surrounded by palace maidens carrying golden lamps and trays of flowers.
Her attire shimmered beneath the afternoon sunlight — a deep crimson silk lehenga embroidered with golden thread. A translucent veil rested lightly over her head, edged with pearls so fine that they trembled softly whenever the wind touched them.
Heavy royal ornaments adorned her gracefully but did not overpower her presence.
The jewelled waistband around her waist chimed faintly as she walked.
Golden anklets rang softly against the marble steps. Her long braid, decorated with jasmine flowers and tiny gems, moved gently behind her.
But more than beauty, it was the emotion on her face that captured attention. There was nervousness there. Expectation. Shyness. And somewhere beneath all of it… a quiet hope she was trying very hard to hide.
As she slowly walked forward, her eyes unconsciously searched the gathering. For only a brief moment, her gaze met Karna's. And immediately afterward, she lowered her eyes again. Yet that single glance did not escape everyone.
Duryodhana noticed it.
So did Shakuni.
Even Bhishma silently closed his eyes for a moment, as if already sensing where fate intended to move.
The flower petals continued falling around Dushala while the sunlight illuminated the gold woven into her garments, making her appear almost like a moving flame ascending toward the royal platform.
Many princes stared at her in admiration, some in desire, some in calculation, some simply in awe.
Because Dushala was not merely the princess of Hastinapura. She was the only royal daughter born into the Kuru line after generations — a jewel of the dynasty itself.
As she finally reached the elevated stage, attendants carefully lifted part of her long veil while Dhritarashtra extended his hand slightly toward the sound of her anklets.
"Come, daughter."
His usually stern voice softened visibly.
Dushala slowly sat beside her father upon the elevated royal seat, maintaining perfect royal composure despite the storm of emotions inside her chest. Her fingers quietly tightened over the garland resting upon her lap.
From below, Karna observed her silently.
For some reason, the memory of the blood-covered, frightened girl sitting among corpses near the burning ashram suddenly flashed through his mind.
He had gone to Kashi to pay respects to his late parents-in-law. But now he was sitting in this Swayamvara.
*Is it really another game of fate?* Karna could not help but wonder.